


the (second) most important rule of hosting foreign exchange students

by selenicsoulmates



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Help, anyway this isn't going anywhere please don't ask me to write more, crying into food because he's a mess of feelings, just like we are this season, listen i just want marco crying over how much he likes her sue me, marco likes star first au, or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9710816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenicsoulmates/pseuds/selenicsoulmates
Summary: Marco’s in trouble, but his friends are here to help with a slight intervention. Oh, and an obnoxiously large container of low-fat strawberry greek yogurt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more fluff and my other stories aren’t doing it for me so…I wrote this short thing. It goes nowhere don’t ask for more.
> 
> Also kudos are nice but I really love comments? They help me write faster. Take that as you will.

Last year, silence was a blessing.

He got homework done when it was quiet. He could complete his master plans when it was quiet. He thought of the expansive universe when it was quiet. He could actually _think_ when it was quiet.

And then an alien princess showed up, and…it wasn’t a thing that happened all so often. If she wasn’t dragging him to a different dimension, she was talking to him about one. Or asking him questions about this dimension, Earth. Or anything, really. She talked a lot.

So, silence was a blessing.

Now? Now it’s a curse with the same retribution as something like Naysaya. Except, Naysaya helped him, if not in a completely barbaric and humiliating way. This was just eating him from the inside, growing louder and louder, and sounding so much like his _stupid, angry, unnecessary voice_ that probably just screwed up one of the best relationships he’s ever had. Or, will lead to him screwing everything up, if what is plastered in his head, flashing in neon lights with rainbows that are on fire has anything to do about it.

Marco barely acknowledges when his friends swing the door open, with Janna leading the group with his house keys swinging around her pointer finger  (well, he notices _that_ a bit, but not enough to straighten up in his pathetic heap on the couch. Maybe if he sinks into the cushions enough, he can disappear, along with all of his realization from the past twenty minutes sitting there alone. He asked them to come over, though, so whatever.). Jackie regains him quietly, standing off to the side along with Janna, who is less ‘watching him carefully with concern’ and more ‘ _Why am I here I thought we were gonna get food or spray paint the swing sets in the park_.’ Ferguson hands him an 85 ounce container, his own version of “Heartbreak Mending,” specially requested, and takes a seat near Barko Diaz and Marco Jr. by the TV. Alfonzo gives him a blue superhero spoon you can find at the all-night convenience store, following Ferguson to pet the laser puppies. Marco gladly snatches the Superman spoon and rips open the tub of low-fat strawberry greek yogurt, stuffing a nice-sized helping into his stupid mouth that doesn’t know when to shut up. It helps. Kinda.

“Okay, so while I’m not opposed to actually being invited to your house instead of using the passcode on your garage, I’m super confused about what _this_ ,” Janna gestures his pitiful, slouched form, still stuffing his face, “is.”

He tries to rub the migraine that’s managed to settle at the right side of his temple away with little success, sighing into his “break up” snack and stuffing the spoon in the pink goo. His headache gets worse, because it won’t _shut up_ about what he’s only just figured out. Talking about these sorta things helps people, right? _Right_? God, he hoped so.

“I think I’m in love with Star,” Marco’s elbow digs into his jean-covered knee, pinching at the nerves by the bone as a way of punishment. “Well, no, scratch that. I _know_ I’m in love with her.”

“That’s great!” Alfonzo looks around the room for support. When his excited reaction is met with silence and odd looks, he retreats back into his wool vest. “That _is_ great, right?”

“It’s not great,” Marco responds. He stares glumly and the swirling chunks of strawberries in his yogurt. They remind him of Star, who loves strawberries. Why did he have to ask for strawberry-flavored yogurt? Did anyone want to give him a break up there? “It’s bad, and I wouldn’t even be in this mess if I didn’t yell at her and cause her to run off to who-knows-where with Ponyhead.”

Where did their fight even begin? He could vaguely recall himself yelling at her about forks, or maybe chicken? Oh, right – dishes. It was her turn to do dishes. She broke the sink, because she went soap-happy and all magic-y on it, and boom – he exploded. Then, he saw her eyes well up with tears before she bolted upstairs, took his dimensional scissors, and jumped through a hole in the universe to run away from him. He’s such an idiot.

“It’s not a big deal, y’know,” Janna huffs, rolling her eyes. Marco was always known to be melodramatic, right behind his ‘Safe Kid’ title, but this? She’d expect a little bit more joy from him, but she’s stuck with some 1990’s sleepover version of Marco where he cries into tubs of chocolate. Or yogurt, in this case. Whatever.

Marco nearly chokes on his desert, getting a swift slap on the back by Ferguson. “Not a big deal? Do you even know the most important rule of hosting foreign exchange students?”

“Always do background checks.”

Marco waves his spoon at Alfonzo. “Okay, the _second_ most important rule.”

“I don’t,” she crosses her arms. “Enlighten me.”

“Don’t fall in love with them.”

Jackie takes a seat next to a hunched Marco, his yogurt forgotten, and she places her hand on his shoulder as a sign of comfort. She’s good like that – her calming aura radiates off her just as much as her coolness. It almost relaxes the tightness confided deep within his chest. Almost. “Marco, it’s okay to love Star.”

“No, Jackie, it’s not.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Marco yells, frustration evident on every part of his tense body. He sags a bit into the cushions, running both of his hands through his hair. Yelling is what sent Star off to who-knows-where; it won’t do much of anything now. “Because foreign exchange students always _leave_ ,” he sighs. “But Star? Star’s a princess. Her leaving was a given as soon as she walked in the door. She has an entire kingdom to take care of back home and I’m…” Marco picks up the comfort food and places it back between his knees, shoveling his spoon back into the container. “I’m just _Karate Boy_ from Earth.”

Ferguson, on the floor playing with Marco Jr., holts his game of poke-tag to give his friend a serious look. “You’re not just Karate Boy, Marco: you’re her best friend. She cares about you just as much as you care about her. And there’s no way she’s just gonna leave you totally behind to be queen.”

“Mewni is a governing monarch and Star has to reverse generations of Monster-fueled racism that plagues nearly the entire dimension,” He stuffs more pink goo in his mouth. “Plus, her royal etiquette sucks, according to Glossaryck, so she’ll be busy working on that too.”

“Oh, for the love of –” Janna grabs Marco’s precious container and holds it at her hip, a muffled protest from the boy as he reaches back for his desert without leaving the couch. “You know what all of this sounds like, Marco? It sounds like you’re being a quitter.”

“I’m not being a quitter. I’m being rational.”

She throws an arm into the air in exasperation “Who cares what you think you’re being! The point is that you’re in love with Star, and all you wanna do is sit around and _mope_ about it!”

“I’m not _moping_.”

“Um,” Ferguson grimaces at his friend from the rug, “you’re kinda moping, dude.”

Marco falls back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. He counts ten specks that decorate the tiles as his friends watch him quietly, calculating, before he finally manages a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Okay, yeah, I’m a grumpy, mopey, dumb teenager. So what am I supposed to do about this?”

“You should tell her.”

“ _Tell her_?” He twists his head to stare at Jackie ludicrously. “Do you know how long it took me to tell _you_ that I liked you?”

“Awhile, I know. But Star’s different! You’re entire relationship with Star is different,” Jackie explains. “You don’t have to put her on any kind of pedestal because you already know what she has to offer. You don’t have to get passed the image of Star because you already see how special she is beyond all of that, and I’m sure she feels the same way.”

And that makes sense, though the realization stabs at him just a bit deeper. Star _is_ different, but it doesn’t discount his time with Jackie, nor does it say that being with Star would be any easier than being with Jackie. It just credits all of walls they’ve blasted through, the adventures they’ve gone on, the battles they’ve won, the memories they’ve made, or even whatever feelings linger between them. He doesn’t have to make up master plans, or practice saying things in the mirror, or try to be anyone else but himself. He knows Star loves him – he’s not sure in what way, but he knows he holds a place in her heart. Maybe that’s enough.

“What should I even say to her?”

“You should probably start by kissing her ass if you actually wanna get anywhere.” Marco sends Janna the worst glare he can muster up in the moment, which isn’t much. “Kidding, Diaz. Just apologize, and tell her she’s the light of your life or something.”

Ferguson flexes his hand and blows out a puff of air between his lips. “No problem for ol’ Marco over here, right?”

Not right, but he’ll take the pseudo confidence.

He decides to take Janna’s albeit badly-worded, but decent advice. He’ll talk to her and apologize, but after she got back from whatever adventure she decided to throw herself into. And with that, he sends his friends on his way, puts his half-eaten tub of yogurt on the bottom shelf of the fridge and tosses his Superman spoon in the green bucket in front of the broken sink.

Trotting upstairs and to his room, Marco throws himself into homework in the as he waits for Star to get back. It feels like 3 hours worth of calculus homework fly across his desk in that time. Or maybe 50 minutes, he’s not sure, but it’s Skullnick’s homework, so time sorta moves differently whenever he does it. The mellow music blasting into his ear drums that Jackie showed him manages to both distract him enough and allow him to do the work without getting sidetracked.

_If X is the square root of y + 14 / 10 times 3.45 over y squared, then what is y?_

He taps his pencil to the beat of the music and wonders just _why_ he’s taking Miss Skullnick’s AP Calculus class.

“Hey,” he hears when the melody of the song reaches its end. Maybe he was doing homework for three hours.

“Oh,” he rips his headphones out of his ears, a bit too enthusiastic, as he turns to the door and sees Star standing there, slightly leaning against the doorframe of his room. Not quite in, not quite out. “Hey, ow, I-I didn’t know you got back.”

She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her headband, eyes diverting to the posters up in his room instead of acknowledging him. Nerves. He did that to her. The happy little balloon that rose in his chest deflated.

“I, uh, I just did that internet search thing with your dad for ploomers? Plumpers? I dunno. Anyway the, uh, the sink should be fixed by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay,” he replies, getting out of his desk chair to stand in front of her. He doesn’t really care about the sink too much anymore.

“Okay.”

“Did you have fun with Ponyhead?”

“Not really,” she answers, taking his dimensional scissors from her star-shaped purse and placing them on his bedding. At least he got her in the door. “We just talked, a lot. Which isn’t really Pony’s thing, but she could tell I needed it, so –” She trails off, her arm reaching from its spot against the doorframe to rub at her other arm. She couldn’t look more uncomfortable if she tried (was she trying to? He wouldn’t put it past her).

“Look, Star, I’m really sorry for blowing up on you.”

“It’s fine. I broke something in your house and I should be the one who’s sorry, so really, Marco, I’m –”

“No, how I reacted was out of line. I’m sorry for treating you like that.”

Star’s cheeks puff out, cool façade breaking, revealing the stress etched at the spaces above her hearts. Her blue eyes tear up again. “You should be, you jerk. I hate when you yell at me.”

Marco bites back a sarcastic retort of ‘ _Well, if you weren’t so obsessed with **bubbles** ’ _when she wraps her arms around his torso and buries herself into his warmth. His arms stutter in place, because _jeez,_ she’s stronger than she looks, but also because frankly he doesn’t know exactly what to do. It’s not so much the anxiety of liking her that stops him – there isn’t any sweat building at the back of his neck, or ‘what ifs’ running rampant and screaming in his ears.

Her voice is so muffled in the cotton that he barely hears her say, “I don’t like fighting with you.”

Marco lets out a relaxed breath – because, why does he wonder what he should do? What else is there to do besides wrap her in a hug almost as tightly as hers? So he does, and he hears her let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t like fighting with you, either.”

He’s _in love_ with this girl.

God, he’s so screwed.

She lets go first, because if he’s being honest with himself, he didn’t really want to. But she doesn’t go far; trailing her hands down his arm until they take hold of his hands, gripping them like a lifeline. His thumb gently strokes her fingers, and she grips him a little tighter. Star smiles up at him, and he feels himself mirror her – kindness and happiness and relief transcending across the space they don’t meet quite meet. He likes that they can talk without using words, since they’ve never been too good at them anyway.

“I have to call my mom, but um, do you wanna come in my room in about 5 minutes and we can play a board game or something? Maybe?”

“Yeah,” He lets her go, watching her watch him as she steps backwards out of the room. Her smile grows. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

He’ll tell her. Soon. When the sink’s fixed.


End file.
